Vol pour la Justice Flight for Justice
by Lexysha Wolff
Summary: When Frollo vow's to find Esmeralda, Clopin urges her to leave France with a band of gypsies headed for a city called Agrabah until things cool off. Meanwhile in Agrabah, Jasmine longs for a life of freedom, and resolves to escape her life in the palace. A twist in the story: What if it wasn't Aladdin who had saved Jasmine in the marketplace that fateful day? EsmeraldaxJasmine
1. Chapter 1: The Phoenix's Flight

note: Hi, this is my first ever fanfic, so I super appreciate any feedback. I love reviews, so please leave them, even if it's critisizing just don't be plain rude. Also, you are going to notice an EXTREME lack of the original heroes from the movies. Sorry, it was the only way to make my plot work.

Scene 1: The Phoenix's Flight

Esmeralda slipped beneath the stage, unnoticed in her simple cloak by the masses of festival-goers crowding around. _Clopin has their attention._ She thought. _Good._ She positioned herself and slipped the cloak off smoothly to reveal her red dress, closing her eyes and breathing deeply, preparing herself. The wait was always the hardest part of any performance, the anticipation before the rush. Today's wait was particularly agonizing as she crouched there in the dark, waiting to burst free of this tiny cage and spread her wings. She could hear the crowd chattering amongst themselves excitedly as Clopin brought them ever closer toward the climax of the festival, "Come one! Come all! Hurry, hurry, here's your chance, See the mystery and romance! Come one! Come all! See the finest girl in France make an entrance to entrance- Danse la Esmeralda..." She could feel the crowd holding it's collective breath- She held hers along with it, her heart racing. "DANSE!"

It all happened in a rush. The smoke that erupted across the stage cloaked everything. No one saw the trap door take Clopin down below to where Esmeralda waited; No one saw her rise in his place, or Clopin replacing the door behind her. To the audience, it was simply magic. And in a way it was. For now came the time to spread her wings and fly, and for Esmeralda, that freedom was the greatest magic in the world.

To dance often was like being in a trance. The rest of the world really didn't seem to exist. There were no rules, no boundaries, often there was hardly any thought. There was only the dance. For days like today, she had memorized all her movements by heart, and so she could just let her body flow in a well remembered pattern, natural as breathing, and just as vital. The awed gasps and cheers of her admirer's were quite welcome sounds, an accompaniment to the music that moved with her body. The taunts of men, mostly soldiers who had tormented her people for years, were less welcome but much expected. Why not let them enjoy the view? It was meant to be enticing after all. But her pride got the better of her. She simply had to taunt back. She surveyed the crowd, looking for someone to pick on. It would make a nice addition to the act anyway. She spotted a young man in a teal cloak - the same boy she had met earlier that day when he'd stumbled, very anxious and apologetic, into her dressing tent - standing near the stage. He still looked so awkward and innocent there, so she paused in her search to give him a reassuring wink before coming out of a split she hadn't really noticed she was in before it elicited gasps from her audience. Then she saw him. Judge Frollo, "keeper of peace", "hand of justice" and tormentor of gypsies. Or anyone with a different opinion or way of life really. He sat on a cushioned chair, on a shaded platform connected to the catwalk._ How cozily the oppressors live. _She thought, and smiled to herself. All thought of consequence left her. Frollo, disgruntled as he seemed about it, was here as a public official to oversee the festival's proceedings. Well, she would see to it he truly saw those proceedings- up close and personal. She glided down the catwalk and took up a seductive pose seated on the railing that divided this prestigious man of God from the common riffraff, draped her scarf around his neck, and leaned in, pulling him closer as if for a kiss. She could see the shock and desire on his face- like that more becoming of a young boy than an old man. It disgusted but did not surprise her. She was used to being gaped at and had learned to hide her feelings well. She kept her composure, still smiling seductively, then pulled his hat down over his eyes and pranced away, making sure he had his sight and whatever wits he had about him again before taking a spear from a stunned guard, running for the heart of the stage, and stabbing the tip of the spear into the wood, vaulted herself onto it, wrapping her legs around and spinning gracefully to the ground again, feeling the wind catch her spirit and fuel her fire. To the last beat of the music, she nodded her head to the audience. _Yes, I am free. Unlimited. I am my dance._

xxx

It was, she told herself proudly, only Clopin's pleas that could have ever made her leave that night. This unfamiliar caravan had taken her in with no hesitation. They knew who she was. They knew why she must leave Paris immediately.

xxx

_"Esmeralda! Thank goodness you're safe!" She had only just arrived home in the Court of Miracles when Clopin grasped her wrist firmly and started to lead her to a group of travellers Esmeralda recognized as having come to perform for the festival. She pulled her wrist free and stopped in her tracks._

_"Clopin, what's going on?"_

_"I've arranged for you to leave France. Tonight. The sooner the better, I've already packed the nessecities for you." She gaped at him, disbelieving. _

_"Leave France? But why?" She knew why, but she couldn't understand it._

_"Frollo is already looking for you. We can't waste any time-"_

_"So you want me to RUN?" Her pride flared. She was no coward._

_"You caused too much of a stir at the festival, Frollo won't let you live if he finds you." Clopin's voice was firm, his eyes worried. He wanted Esmeralda to understand how important this was. His words reminded her of the Archdeacon. _

xxx

_"You caused quite a stir at the festival. It would be unwise to arouse Frollo's anger further." What about her anger? She wondered. Or the anger of all the other victim's of Frollo's cruelty? Did their anger mean nothing? That poor boy had been abused by the crowd as no other King of Fools before. The contest was meant for a good laugh, but on both sides. Never had she dreamed when she pulled her shy admirer on stage what he would have to endure. It would have angered her in any situation, but for this she felt personally responsible. She had pulled him into this. She had to get him out. And so she had freed him from his bonds, attempted to clean him up a little, before Frollo opened his ever condemning mouth. The very sound of his voice breaking through the silence irked her, but his command, to step down from the stage, allow the torture to continue, infuriated her and broke through all her careful composure. She spoke of justice, called Frollo out on all his cruelties. "Silence!" he commanded. "JUSTICE!" she cried. And then her fate was sealed. She had dared to openly defy Frollo. All there was for it was to make the most dazzling escape possible, leave the citizens of Paris in awe with her declarations so that they might be remembered._

xxx

_"I can't run away. If I leave, everything I said today-"_

_"Will be forgotten." Clopin cut her off. "And In time it will be safe for you to return home to the Court of Miracles." Esmeralda was silent. She knew he was right, but that was just it. She didn't want her words forgotten. She didn't want her risk to be for nothing. There was, however, that other problem- one she hadn't thought all that worrying initially, but still it nagged at the back of her mind._

xxx

_In the cathedral, after her brief "fight" with the flirtatious Captain Phoebus and the Archdeacon's insistence upon her safety in the sanctity of the church, Frollo had caught her alone, binding her wrists behind her back. "You think you've outwitted me, but I'm a patient man, and gypsies don't do well inside stone walls." His voice was low in her ear, his breath like that of a cold and lonely grave. His grip on her wrists was clammy, and Esmeralda had to wonder momentarily if he was a form of Death itself, as he took lives mercilessly for his own self-righteous ideals. Then he leaned in closer, closing his dark eyes and burying his face in her hair, inhaling deeply. Esmeralda tensed up, holding her own breath for a moment, trying not to show any sign of fear. It would not help her. She found her voice and squeezed as much venom into it as she could through the internalized panic. "What are you doing?" she hissed. "I was just imagining a rope," Frollo lied smoothly "around that beautiful neck." He caressed her neck as he spoke, or maybe it was more of a clawing motion, threatening as it was. The fear broke again to fury and Esmeralda tore away from him, finding strength in her voice again. "I know what you were imagining," she spat. Frollo surveyed her, his expression smoothing again from surprise at her escape to a cool righteousness. He steepled his fingers, a calculating gesture. "Such a clever witch. So typical of your kind to twist the truth, to cloud the mind with unholy thoughts." Esmeralda recoiled, seeing the "unholy thoughts" play across his face. "Well, no matter." He said, casually making his way to the grand doors. "You've chosen a magnificent prison, but it is a prison nonetheless. Set one foot outside, and you're mine." _

xxx

_She had tried to play it off. An old priest with a fantasy he could never act on in his station. It would pass, she told herself. Still, his touch, his voice, features of a merciless and unforgiving Death haunted her, and chilled her to the bone. Could she really let that fear make her run, though? _

_"Esmeralda, please, for me," Clopin begged, seeing the conflict in her expression. She didn't want to run. She couldn't. Fear of Death in whatever form it came for her couldn't make her leave her home. But could Clopin's fear sway her? "I don't want to ask you to stay hidden here," he said. "but I can't risk losing you. Take this chance to see the world. When it is safe for you to return, I will send for you. I promise." _

xxx

That promise was what she held on to as she wandered through the night with this new band to the middle east. She would see the world, and she would return. She had Clopin's word for it.


	2. Chapter 2: The Caged Bird

note: Big thanks to my first reviewer, Flarga, even though I know she only did it for my self-esteem because she hearts me, and a big thanks also to my first ever follower SergeantMonkeyDDS! I was super excited to see I had a follower! So this chapter is for you guys for making me smile. Enjoy! ^^ (Lexy just might be too excited about all this... nah!)

Scene 2: The Caged Bird

Sunlight beamed in through sheer curtains, caressing Jasmine's skin, calling her gently. "Wake up," it whispered. "There's a new world waiting today." She smiled, ready to accept the invitation.

"Princess Jasmine? You're father asked me to wake you." Smile gone. Just like that. Her eyes refused to open. There was no new world waiting for her. Just the servants, her father, and the new suitor she was to meet this morning. Maybe if she could just fall back asleep, she could escape them and wake up somewhere new, following the sun to her heart's content. "Princess? Princess Jasmine, are you alright?" If only... she sighed. "I'm awake, thank you." She stretched out and opened her eyes to the sun, now glaring in it's disappointment. _If only... _

xxx

After breakfast, Jasmine fled to her garden. Prince Achmed, her father had informed her, would be arriving soon, and she wanted some time alone before dealing with her next trial. It truly was a test, meeting these suitors. A test of her patience and how long she could fake a smile before looking for ways to push them away. She only even tried for her father. She knew he loved her and only wanted the best for her. The problem was, she didn't want "the best". She wanted freedom- a freedom she could never have in this cage, no matter how beautifully it shined. She sat on the edge of her fountain and stroked her fingers along the surface of the water absently, gazing into its endless reflections. Something soft and strong nudged her arm and she jumped, but it was only Rajah, seeking to comfort his friend. He could always feel her pain in whatever form it took. Jasmine stroked his fur, gazing into his eyes sadly, knowing he understood. "Rajah, what can I do?"

"Jasmine! Oh, Jasmine dearest, there you are!" her father called, hurrying over to her. _Here we go. _she thought. The sultan came to a stop beside her, huffing a little with the effort of his dash, adjusting his turban. "Well now. Yes, that is, allow me to introduce Prince Achmed!" His voice rang with enthusiasm, but the appearance of the man who strutted leisurely behind him made Jasmine anything but enthusiastic. He wore a smile that was more like a sneer, and his curled mustache and goatee combination made him look very much a comical fool. He held himself with an amount of self satisfaction unfit for any human being, and he looked down his nose at Jasmine as if she were beneath him, as if she were some jewel he wasn't sure if he wanted to wear that day or not. Already, Jasmine despised him.

"Princess Jasmine," he bowed regally and extended a hand to her. She did not stand. She did not take his hand. She simply looked at it. Rajah growled and sat solidly beside her. Prince Achmed looked up at her, irked. "It is an honor to be here, to meet such a lovely gem as yourself." Right. Exactly like a jewel. She stood and took his hand, quite unwilling, for her father's sake, and nodded to him, expressionless. "As I am sure it must be an honor to meet any man who holds himself with such pride," she said. There, her father couldn't make too much of that, could he? Satisfied, oblivious, the sultan smiled at them both, always a picture of cheerfulness. "Well, I'll just leave you be then, let you get to know each other a little better, yes?" and he scurried away. As soon as he was out of sight, Jasmine pulled her hand away from Achmed's and sat back at her fountain, stroking Rajah's fur.

"So... Prince Achmed. Tell me about yourself." Here, she could just let him ramble until he grew tired of hearing his own voice. She knew he would need no response from her. She let time simply wash over her, unfeeling, gazing into the endless sky.

"I say, girl, are you even listening to me?" His voice had taken on a very irate tone, snapping Jasmine back to her senses. "What?" She turned to face him. "Ridiculous girl, whatever were you doing? Looking off into nothing, daydreaming no doubt! Were you never taught to listen when a man speaks?!" Rajah tensed up beside her. He didn't like this man's tone. "I'm sorry." Jasmine said, startled. "It's just you're so full of yourself, I assumed you'd ramble a bit longer." Her hands flew to her mouth. What was she saying?! How could she let that slip?! It wasn't even an attempt at a veiled insult, but somehow she couldn't feel sorry. It was just too true. Prince Achmed's face contorted. "Why, you ungrateful brat! I would have considered taking you off your father's hands if only for your beauty, but for such a bold tongue, I'm not sure your beauty paired with ALL your father's riches would be enough!" In a flash, Achmed was on the ground, a shocked cry escaping his lips, and Rajah was prancing away around the fountain with his prize: the prince's turban.

"Give that back, you beast!" he cried, scrambling to his feet and attempting vainly to chase the tiger. Rajah would prance just out of his reach and shake it tauntingly in his jaws, then jump back a little farther when Achmed tried to make a grab for it. Jasmine suppressed her smile, enjoying her furry hero's game. Finally, when Achmed almost had it, grazed it with his fingertips, Rajah tossed it into the fountain, and the prince reflexively dove in after it with a great splash. Jasmine stood quickly and backed away from the spray. "Rajah!" she half reprimanded, half laughed. Achmed stood and adjusted his turban, prissily righting himself.

"Princess Jasmine," he spat, "I would say it has been a pleasure speaking with you, but I must say I did not come all this way to be disrespected so. Unless you can learn to control your tongue, and your _beast_-" he glared at Rajah, who huffed in return. "Then I honestly believe you, _princess_, will remain unmarried, a shame to your father and to all of Agrabah, forever!" He turned on his heel and strutted away, but he couldn't make it to the double doors before Rajah had his last say. _Rrrrrip!_ The prince made a horrified sound, then molded it to righteous indignation, and stormed back inside, leaving Rajah with the seat of his pants as his new chew toy.

Jasmine sat back at the fountain, alone again with her thoughts. "Unmarried forever, huh? Horrible." She rolled her eyes. Really, she didn't understand what the big fuss was about. Spend your life with someone you hate, just so you can say you're married? Why would anyone choose that? Why should she have to?

"Jasmine? Oh, Jasmine!" Right on cue she heard her father's call, followed by the grumble of a discontented Rajah and the thud of her father falling over stunned. "Confound it, Rajah!" he said, successfully tugging only half the cloth from the tiger's mouth. "So, this is why Prince Achmed stormed out!" Rajah lazily made his way back over to Jasmine, giving the rest of the cloth to her like a gift. Jasmine took it from him gently and tossed it aside. "Oh father, Rajah was just playing with him. Weren't you Rajah?" She took the the great cat's head in her hands and played under his chin and behind his ears affectionately. "You were just playing with that overdressed, self absorbed Prince Achmed, weren't you?" she cooed. She put her arms around him and laughed into his fur, feeling their bond, how they understood each other so entirely. Then she caught her father's eye. It was rare that he ever looked stern, but he certainly did now. She cleared her throat and glanced away.

The sultan came closer, beseeching. "Dearest, you've got to stop rejecting every suitor who comes to call!" Jasmine sighed and walked away to the bird cage. She'd heard this all before. "The law says you-" "Must be married, to a prince." she finished for him. "By your _next_ birthday!" he stressed. She bowed her head, trying to breathe and keep her voice reasonable. "The law is wrong." There. She had stated her opinion, plain and simple. She opened the bird cage a crack and let one little white feathered friend hop onto her hand. "You've only got three more days!" "Oh father, I hate being forced into this," she tried for the hundredth time to explain, stroking the bird's feathers dreamily. _If I only had wings like you _she thought. "If I do marry, I want it to be for love." _Birds aren't forced to marry. In fact, they never marry at all. They're always free. _

Her father looked at her sadly. "Jasmine... It's not only this law. I'm not going to be around forever and-" he took the bird from her hand, seeking her full attention. Jasmine walked away, not rewarding him for stealing her from her thoughts. "I just want to make sure you're taken care of," he said, putting the bird away with the others. "Provided for." Again, Jasmine retreated for the fountain. "Please, try to understand. I've never done a thing on my own." Her fingers traced the water's surface again. "I've never had any real friends!" Rajah grumbled his indignation. "Except you, Rajah," she smiled. Content, he rested his head back on his paws. "I've never even been outside the palace walls," she gestured mournfully to the suffocating structure around her. "But Jasmine, you're a princess!" She'd heard that simple argument too many times before. "Then maybe I don't want to be a princess anymore!" she snapped, slapping the water to vent her frustration and turning her back on the sultan. He huffed irritably and retreated inside.

Jasmine slowly relaxed, gazing at the birdcage. Once, when she was small, she had shown a great love of the birds who visited her garden, and so her father had brought them here for her enjoyment. He had misunderstood her, though. For a while they held her amusement, but it was their freedom she truly loved, truly envied. Now they were prisoners like herself, and the bond they shared was that of having clipped wings. A sudden urge came over her, so strong and right. She strode to the cage, and flung its doors wide, releasing her winged companions. She turned and watched them escape into the never ending sky, following her glorious friend, the sun, into freedom.

_If only I had wings, I could fly away from this place. _She thought again. And then, just as with the bird cage, she had another irresistable thought. _Whoever said you need wings to fly? _Could she do it? Could she escape her cage? _Why not?_

xxx

In the moon's faint glow, Jasmine pulled an inconspicuous brown cloth around her face, glancing around the garden anxiously as she crept to a tree with low hanging branches by the wall. Just as she reached for the nearest branch, something grabbed the trail of her hood and tugged, stopping her heart momentarily, but it was only Rajah, his eyes sad. He knew she was leaving him. Of course he knew. Jasmine kneeled and embraced him. "I'm sorry, Rajah... But I can't stay here and have my life lived for me." Her voice pleaded for him to understand. Just like he always had. "I'll miss you." She gave him one last tight hug before turning back to climb the tree. This time, he nudged her foot with his head, giving her a helpful push. At the top of the wall, Jasmine turned back. "Goodbye," she whispered, and disappeared over the wall, her only friend gazing after her, wishing only for her happiness.


	3. Chapter 3: Hand of Fate

Note: Sorry for the lateness! Much craziness going on here, what with every festival in the area happening at once plus driving lessons (should be in college and can't even drive, isn't it sad?). But enough excuses! Time to sit down and write!

Scene 3: Hand of Fate

Esmeralda dressed in a groggy silence, preparing for her first day on the streets of Agrabah. The heat kept calling her to lie back down and just sleep, much like intense cold will do, but if she were to eat that day there was work to be done. She groaned inwardly at the thought of dancing in such weather, but there were worse things. At least it wasn't humid. She ran her fingers through her hair and looked herself over one more time. Without her bodice, her blouse revealed her midriff, but that was acceptable in her profession, she supposed. Clopin had packed a pale turquoise skirt for her, and though at first she had doubted the color, Esmeralda had to appreciate now how much cooler she would feel in this as opposed to the dark purple of her usual skirt. Golden trinkets chimed at her right ankle and left wrist, and a belt of golden coins decorated her skirt. Silver never had been her color. She twirled around once for effect; her skirt flared around her, the flutter of fabric in motion muted like soft feathers. It would do, she thought, so long as she could make a few coins today.

xxx

Jasmine ambled down the packed streets of the marketplace, taking in all the sights and sounds with great wonder. Never in all her life had her senses been so overwhelmed, so torn as shop owners called out to the crowds from every direction, presenting their wares, and somewhere down the street, music, an upbeat and exciting tune, was being played. Here, everything happened at once so that she simply couldn't keep up with it all. It was exhilarating.

Esmeralda payed special attention to her surroundings as she danced this morning. Her movements, as a result, were very much from memory- less fluid and free. She wasn't entirely sure it mattered anyway. No one here seemed to take the time to watch, and she felt as if few of those who did stop had the coin to spare. Across the street, she could see a little boy at a booth reaching for an apple and glancing around anxiously. _The outcasts starve everywhere, don't they?_

It was then that Jasmine saw him. The boy was so small, five at the oldest, and there he was, all alone in the market, reaching for an apple. _Where is his mother? _she thought. _Why does no one help him?_ The desperation on his face broke her heart. How long had it been since his last meal? "You must be hungry," she said, and handed him the biggest apple she saw. "Here you go." The boy looked up at her with shock and gratitude, smiled, and ran off into an alley. Confused, but glad to help, Jasmine turned to walk away.

Esmeralda saw it, but she couldn't believe it. At first, she'd thought the girl was being generous and buying the boy an apple. But to just walk away? It wasn't even a smooth theft. She had been very open about it. Was she crazy?

"You'd better be able to pay for that," the giant shopkeeper growled.

"Pay?" Jasmine repeated, puzzled.

"No one steals from my cart!"

"I'm sorry, I- I don't have any money." Esmeralda had stopped dancing to watch the exchange, perplexed.

"THIEF!" the shopkeeper cried, grabbing Jasmine's wrist and jerking her around to the booth.

"Please! I-i-if you let me go to the palace I can get some from the sultan!" she begged._ Sultan? _Esmeralda moved forward. Something wasn't right.

"Do you know what the penalty is for stealing?!" He raised a sword above his head, preparing to swing it down onto her wrist. Jasmine's eyes widened.

"No! No, please!" Esmeralda couldn't watch this. As the blade swung down, she ran, pushing her way through the few people in the street who had stopped to see what the fuss was about. Just in time, she caught the man's wrist in both her hands and held it motionless, a great credit to her strength as his wrists were as big around as her whole body.

"Wait!" The streets stilled. Jasmine opened her eyes, having closed them at the last second in terror, to see her savior. A woman stood between Jasmine and her captor, her hair wild, her face proud and strong with eyes full of fire. Jasmine had never seen such fire as this and became trapped in those eyes, for a moment quite forgetting where she was, the painful grip on her wrist, and the current predicament she was in. When the woman spoke, her voice held captive the attention of all around her. "She said she can get you the money. She's not a thief."

"The girl is a liar! She said she knows the sultan!"

"Do you have proof she doesn't?" Esmeralda challenged. The man looked puzzled.

"How could she possibly-?" he stuttered. A newcomer began pushing his way through the crowd.

"What's going on here?" he boomed. The shopkeeper seemed pleased.

"Ah, Rasoul, good of you to join us. You can help us solve a mystery, I believe." Jasmine paled a little. Rasoul would recognize her. He would drag her back home.

Esmeralda caught her eye, saw the horror as she turned her head away from the street, trying to hide her face. Whoever this man was, the girl did not want to be seen by him.

"Mystery?"

"Yes, this thief here says she can pay if I let her go see the sultan. As captain of the guard, you are well connected at the palace. See if you recognize her." He practically threw the girl toward the crowd where she stood, trying to hide her face while the man, Rasoul, approached her. Esmeralda glanced around once for an escape route. She shoved the shopkeeper's relaxed hand, successfully pushing the blade of the sword through the thin wood holding the cloth above his booth, collapsing it on his head. The crowd, momentarily distracted, watched him struggle with the fabric as Esmeralda grabbed the girl's wrist and ran for the alley.

Jasmine's heart raced. What was happening? She couldn't wrap her head around it fast enough. She heard men yelling somewhere behind her, could feel her feet move foward thoughtlessly as she was dragged along by the mystery woman, but where was she going? What was going to happen now?

The alley curved and then ended with too high a wall to be jumped. Esmeralda froze. What now? She didn't know these streets like she did in Paris.

"Psst!" They both startled and looked around for the source of the sound. "Over here!" The little boy Jasmine had given the apple to was there, holding back a tattered cloth that had been used as a sort of makeshift curtain door over a hole in the wall. The sound of heavy footsteps approached. "Hurry!" The boy stressed. The two followed him into a dark dusty storage room and over to a large crate. He struggled to push it aside, revealing a crawlspace.

"You two first." Esmeralda said. She wanted to pull the crate back in front of the crawlspace just in case they found this room. On the other side, they found a doorless room with high windows and one staircase from which more light could be seen.

"You'll be safe here." The boy smiled. "This is my house. My name is Malik."

note: My apologies, this chapter was going to be much longer, and I know the random pov switching is confuzzling, it's my first attempt at omniscient nonsense. I really wanted to get this posted before going away for the weekend. I hope you still find it acceptable and love me? Next chapter should be much better! And yes, the chapter title was quite pun intended.


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